


Stale Marshmallow Earth and Lilac Rain

by K_G



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, The other characters are only briefly mentioned, this is all about Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_G/pseuds/K_G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ground is so soft beneath you, it always was and you remember when you found that peculiar and intriguing and everything was a mystery to be solved. You remember a lot of things, with increasing clarity as the minutes float by and you squint up at a sky that is too light to be real, clouds with linings of silver and lilac and gold. The rain falls around you but never quite on you, as if it has an aversion to touching skin flushed by alcohol and hair that hasn’t felt a brushstroke in far longer than you’d care to admit. If you’d care to admit anything at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stale Marshmallow Earth and Lilac Rain

The ground is so soft beneath you, it always was and you remember when you found that peculiar and intriguing and _everything_ was a mystery to be solved. You remember a lot of things, with increasing clarity as the minutes float by and you squint up at a sky that is too light to be real, clouds with linings of silver and lilac and gold. The rain falls around you but never quite on you, as if it has an aversion to touching skin flushed by alcohol and hair that hasn’t felt a brushstroke in far longer than you’d care to admit. If you’d care to admit anything at all.

How are the mighty fallen in the midst of battle!

Dave had said as much easily three times in the last week of the meteoric pilgrimage. But you had closed your mind to words, to language you had previously adored dissecting for hidden meanings, hidden flaws. You closed your mind, and you closed your eyes, and took another sip of pixelated moonshine. A Seer who has willingly blinded herself, stuck in a land that’s far too dazzling with a Seer who would give anything to be blind again. You are both shying away from the slimy grasp of horror on your minds, your hands, and in doing so blind yourselves in all ways other than intended.

In trying to take the edge off, you’ve made your thoughts a loop, a vicious ouroboros that keeps you imprisoned with quiet venomous whispers. You do not welcome the onset of sobriety as you lay beneath skies far too optimistic for a jaded girl to find peace in.

He had told you to play the rain.

But what did that even mean, now, now that everything had changed so violently from the path you had predicted? You rely on instinct like a cornered wounded animal, and you might as well be exactly that. You hate how weak you’ve made yourself, your wit once as keenly honed as thousand-folded steel now rusted and dulled from your abuses. You know your lover hates you too, in that peculiar way that trolls are wont to hate, and that she hates _herself_ for not stepping in sooner and merely watching your decay. You hate yourself for making her beautiful obsidian lips turn down with distaste, and the way her laughter has been silenced by concern and resentment. She is too bright for you now, like this planet is too bright and the pressure of stepping up to your role is _too bright_ and it hurts. It is a throbbing behind your eyes that persists no matter how tightly you screw them shut, or try to block out the white behind a wall of purple velvet that still carries the scent of your mother’s perfume.

You spend a lot of time trying not to think about how disappointed she would have been in you, to see you following in her footsteps – how disappointed she _will_ be when your paths cross. You try very hard indeed not to remember the times you heard her halting sobs through walls that were painfully thin, glass shattering on tiled flooring. The cuts on her fingertips clumsily bandaged with plasters the colour of her eyes from her attempts at cleaning up the messes she made.

It is so much harder to selectively forget when that light is burning through your eyelids and into your soul, as if the universe has had enough of your pussyfooting around your flaws and is holding your eyes open to sear them with the truth, that it is time to let go and it is time to grow up.

And oh, how frightening a thought that is. You worry that you’ve grown impotent over time, that even your keen instinct has been dulled by your abuses and you are a false goddess whose sight is only given credence because of your success with idle parlour tricks. But there is no time left to linger on insecurities and what-if’s, as you push yourself up to answer the call to arms from your brother, the reluctant knight in counterfeit armour.

The ground is still so soft, and you feel a spark of curiosity as to why that is, what algorithm running in the bowels of this cruel game afforded for earth the texture of stale marshmallow. You do not draw your hood over your eyes, because swathing yourself in shadow is a poor strategy when your function demands you examine the light and pull truths from the blinding core of yourself. You tilt your head back, and a droplet of lilac water lands upon your cheek and sends a frisson of electricity through you as your lips curl upward in an honest smile and you decide. You decide that it is time to _see._

 


End file.
